Inspiration: Profiles of Black Women Changing Our World

By Crystal McCrary, Nathan Hale Williams and Laurl Lyons

30 extraordinary black women—including Michelle Obama, Soledad O’Brien, Shonda Rhimes and others—share their personal stories in this inspiring volume.

Whether in the White House or on the courts of Wimbledon, in Hollywood or on the stage of the Metropolitan Opera House, these trailblazing black women have influenced the social, cultural, and political landscape of this country, and even the world. Speaking in their unique voices, luminaries such as Patti LaBelle, Venus Williams, and Susan Taylor share the challenges they’ve faced and the victories they’ve won throughout their careers.

Contributors include Iman, Misty Copland, Whoopi Goldberg, Mary J. Blige, Gayle King, Judith Jameson, and others. These women pass their knowledge and lessons on to a new generation of women in intimate first-person essays and stunning color portraits.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Stewart, Tabori Chang
• Release date: Mar 1, 2012
• ISBN: 9781613123447

Book preview

nspiration is a celebration of thirty extraordinary black women who are changing our world. These women are trailblazers in their fields: from the White House to the courts of Wimbledon, and from Hollywood to the stage of the Metropolitan Opera House, each of these women has influenced the social, cultural, and political landscape of this country and the world. Their unique voices, images, and stories have helped shape the psyche of today’s generation and have ushered in a new era of sophisticated, successful black women. Beautiful color photography accompanies essays in which each woman speaks about her life’s work, passions, hopes for the future, family, and personal inspirations.

Marian Wright Edelman shares her painful knowledge about the cradle-to-prison pipeline that plagues young black people in this country, and Susan L. Taylor tells of the beautiful black women she saw on college campuses in the sixties and seventies, who had never heard anyone call them pretty before. Mary J. Blige explains that she needed to learn to get out of her own way before life really started opening up for her, and Raven-Symoné speaks about the importance of setting goals in every aspect of your life.

The life lessons these celebrated women reveal in Inspiration resonate with people of all ages and backgrounds, regardless of race or gender.

Introduction

Michelle Obama

Laila Ali

Nicole Avant

Patricia Bath

Mary J. Blige

Majora Carter

Debra Martin Chase

Misty Copeland

Ruby Dee

Marian Wright Edelman

Whoopi Goldberg

Thelma Golden

Bethann Hardison

Mellody Hobson

Janice Bryant Howroyd

Iman

Judith Jamison

Gayle King

Patti LaBelle

Debra L. Lee

Soledad O’Brien

Keke Palmer

Tracy Reese

Shonda Rhimes

Shaun Robinson

Betye Saar

Nina Shaw

Raven-Symoné

Susan L. Taylor

Venus Williams

Acknowledgments

Inspiration allows thirty exceptional people to tell their unique stories. Each of these women takes us on her life journey, describing the people, the teachings and the circumstances that shaped her. We see the role that family, culture, community and mentorship play, as well as the influence of dreams, ambitions and ideas.

These women have achieved extraordinary success, sometimes in the face of seemingly insurmountable circumstances. Even more important, each one has attributes of character — integrity, courage, energy, commitment, faith, drive — that illustrate how talent and character come together to create a rich and fulfilling life. The results are astonishing: world-class music, magnificent works of art and prosperous, expanding companies.

I am delighted that Morgan Stanley Smith Barney has been able to play a small role in making this project a reality, and I hope you enjoy and find inspiration in these stories.

Andy Saperstein,

Managing Director, Head of Wealth Management Group

Morgan Stanley Smith Barney

For my Inspirations and the Loves of my Life:

My parents, Thelma and Magellan: you got all the important things right.

My children, Cole and Ella: you give meaning and joy to it all.

My sister, Ruthie: you make sense of it all.

My man, Raymond: you make it all worthwhile.

n 1987 I was given a copy of Brian Lanker’s I Dream a World by one of my mother’s best friends, Rose Swanson. I will never forget seeing the black-and-white image of Septima Clark on the cover. Where had she come from? My curiosity was ignited. She was so dignified, so proud, so purposeful, and so real — it was a beautifully honest photograph. I had never seen such a book before. I was invigorated. Fine. Beautiful. Bold. Brilliant. Colored women. Black women. African American women. (Ain’t they bad!) I was overwhelmed by these women. I was imbued with a sense of possibility. The women of I Dream a World were women I had seen in magazines and books, women I had heard sing or speak, women whose writings I had read, women whom I had never heard of before, women I had dreamed about. I was in awe.

I Dream a World was a gift for my graduation from Mercy, an all-girls Catholic high school in Farmington Hills, Michigan. It was fitting that Mrs. Swanson gave it to me, as she was the sort of woman who celebrated black sisterhood and strong women. Mrs. Swanson was an intelligent, beautiful woman, a wife, mother, Detroit public school teacher, proud member of Delta Sigma Theta, and dedicated member of our community. She very well could have been one of the women profiled in I Dream a World, as could many of the women who made up the tapestry of my childhood.

I grew up in downtown Detroit and went to Christ Church every Sunday with my family. My parents, Magellan and Thelma McCrary, were born in Georgia and Alabama, respectively, and their families migrated north in the twenties to find work. After coming home from World War II, my dad got a job with Ford Motor Company, and he worked there for forty years. My mother was a Detroit public school teacher and principal for more than forty years. We were not wealthy by any means, but my parents worked hard, saved their money, and made sure my sister and I felt secure, had good values, and received an excellent education. A tall, elegant woman, my mother would neatly dress for work every morning before making breakfast wearing one of her many aprons. She would fix my dad the brown-bag lunch he took to work every day. She would then get my sister and me off to school, head to work herself, then return home, cook dinner, do homework with us, bathe us, read us a story, put us to bed, and somehow bake cookies, rolls, and cakes in her spare time. She did this every day and every night without fail. Honesty, hard work, kindness, and love were the hallmarks of my childhood. And there were other African American women in my community, mothers of my childhood friends, who similarly cared for their families: Mrs. Whatley, Mrs. Pitts, Mrs. Danley, Dr. Doss, Mrs. Mackey, Mrs. Dodd, Mrs. Sims, Judge Diggs, and so many others.

These black women informed my early perception of motherhood and community. I marvel now when I reflect on my mother and these other women, because they were fierce. They did it all without thinking twice. They did what needed to be done to make better lives for their children. With few material possessions, they took care of their households, husbands, and children while remaining dignified and beautiful. They took pride not only in their families but also in their own womanhood. I am indebted to them. I feel a responsibility to their legacy and the legacies of so many before and after them, a responsibility to set the record straight. I feel a responsibility to honor their memories and the sacrifices they made for their children and communities.

I received I Dream a World as I was about to head off to college at the University of Michigan. For the first time in my life, I contemplated who I wanted to be as a woman. Like many seventeen-year-olds, I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life other than get through college and perhaps do something creative, whatever that meant. Over the course of my freshman year and beyond, I found myself returning to the stories and images of the women in I Dream a World. I found comfort, guidance, and inspiration in their lives. Each of those women was like a little treasure to be savored and protected. As it happened, my creativity took a slight detour: I graduated, went to law school, and joined a large New York City law firm before leaving to finally pursue that career in the arts. I started writing novels and producing television shows and film, and I made sure to feature strong black women in some shape or form. It was both a passion and an obsession of mine.

I Dream a World left an indelible mark on my mind and my being. Every step, every experience in my life, personal and professional, has led me to the book you are now holding. Having the supreme privilege not only of interviewing these extraordinary women and hearing their remarkable stories, but also of crafting a narrative capturing the spirit of their journeys, has been more than just an honor. It has been a defining experience in my life. All the women have been incredibly generous in what they have shared of their lives: their stories, advice, pitfalls, passions, inspirations, and, most valuable, their time. I have been so humbled by and grateful for their generosity of spirit. These are extremely busy women, but they took the time to be a part of Inspiration. And since I began this project, not a day has gone by when I haven’t thought about some gem that these thirty extraordinary women shared. My life is fuller and richer from hearing their stories. These women are gifts to us all.

In the course of interviews and photo shoots, I watched Judith Jamison sway and smile and emote excellence while the next generation of Ailey dancers were transfixed in her regal presence, imagining perhaps that their paths might mirror hers. I listened to Marian Wright Edelman drop painful knowledge about the cradle-to-prison pipeline that is plaguing our black sons and daughters in this country, and I was rapt as Susan Taylor’s silky voice told me about the beautiful black women she saw on college campuses in the sixties and seventies, who had never heard anyone call them pretty before. I was grateful to enter Betye Saar’s Hollywood Hills art studio and be surrounded by her found treasures, which each hold a magical story waiting to be told by her hands and her heart. I listened to Shonda Rhimes plainly state the truth that all writers must understand in order to be writers: You must write every day. And I learned the many lives and lessons of Bethann Hardison, especially the importance of running one’s own race. Thelma Golden shared with me her deep passion for art, which began when she was a young girl, and Janice Bryant Howroyd — one of the world’s most successful businesswomen — shared what she considers her greatest achievement: learning to love herself the way God intended. Mary J. Blige told me she needed to learn to get out of her own way before life really started opening up for her. I was touched by the joyous addiction to life that Gayle King radiates with every word she speaks, and by her reminder to all women that there is a big pie out there, enough for each of us. I listened to Iman’s stories about recognizing her self-worth and fighting to ensure others were aware of theirs. I saw Keke Palmer, through all her early successes, be constantly respectful to her mother and father and give praise to God. I witnessed Ruby Dee soulfully recite poetry and tales alone onstage at the Ossie Davis Theater with only a chair and her extraordinary talent as her companions.

To hear these women share the unfolding of their destinies, through triumph and tragedy, to witness the possibilities that these women turned into realities, has been both humbling and inspiring. They made me feel, again and again. They reminded me that excellence prevails, that standards still exist, that hard work does indeed pay off, and that staying true to oneself is ultimately the measure of one’s success and, more important, one’s fulfillment. The women of Inspiration embody a commitment to the ideals of truth and beauty. They are the women I want my daughter, Ella, to emulate as she forges her own path in the world. They are the sort of women I hope my son, Cole, will seek as a partner. They deserve to be honored.

We have made great gains in recent decades in acknowledging and celebrating the accomplishments of all women, regardless of race. Indeed, women now hold leadership positions in business, politics, athletics, academics, and entertainment. The women of Inspiration stand on their own merits and are successful by any standard. Without question, their examples will inspire and move us for generations to come. They, along with other strong, dignified, compassionate, and unsung heroic women, beginning with my dear mother, have allowed me to be the woman I am today. They have spent a little time with me and have allowed me the privilege of sharing their legacy with you. It is on their shoulders that I stand. It is their inspiration that moves us forward.

Before she became the First Lady of the United States, Michelle Robinson Obama attended Princeton University and Harvard Law School. She is the mother of two daughters, Malia and Sasha. As First Lady, she has supported military families, become a fashion icon, and planted a garden on the White House lawn. Her Let’s Move! campaign is working hard to combat childhood obesity.

hen I think about what First Lady Michelle Obama represents to this country, I cannot help but imagine what her foundation and journey must have been like as she was growing up on the South Side of Chicago, in a one-bedroom apartment where she and her brother, Craig, slept in the living room with a sheet serving as a makeshift room divider. She was raised by two hardworking, devoted parents whose priorities were clearly family, honesty, and education. Her upbringing by a strong mother and father who emphasized core values of a solid work ethic and pride is not dissimilar to most black people’s history in this country.

When I think of Mrs. Obama in the context of how African American women are perceived today, I think of the inspiring women in my own midwestern community (women much like Marian Robinson, Mrs. Obama’s mother) and women in communities across America, who in the face of adversity have raised generations of African Americans with commitment and grace. Mrs. Obama has described her parents as being the warmest, hardest-working people I have ever known, and clearly she has been the beneficiary of the values they instilled. Michelle Obama has made us all extremely proud in representing not only the United States of America but also her own family, for she is an extraordinary woman under the strictest of scrutiny. She has demonstrated excellence from an early age, having learned to read at home by the age of four, skipped second grade, excelled academically, and attended Princeton University and then Harvard Law School. Her brother, Craig Robinson, has said, Without being immodest, Michelle and I were always smart, were always driven, and were always encouraged to do the best you can do, not just what’s necessary. And when it came to going to schools, we all wanted to go to the best schools we could.

After graduating from two of the nation’s top universities, Mrs. Obama went on to have a successful career as an associate at the Chicago law firm of Sidley Austin and then as a public servant for the city of Chicago and an associate dean at the University of Chicago, before becoming an executive at the University of Chicago Medical Center. Through it all she has managed to be a devoted wife and mother, while surviving a presidential campaign in which her husband made history by becoming the first African American president of the United States. She was able to kick off her own initiatives in support of military families, to start the Let’s Move! campaign combating childhood obesity, to help working women balance career and family, and to encourage national service. She has stepped into her unprecedented role as the first African American First Lady with dignity, intelligence, and candor under the media’s relentless glare. Mrs. Obama has remained steady, poised, and thoughtful, with a quiet, commanding presence — she is clear on her goals and earnest in her executions.

Much has been written about Mrs. Obama helping to change the perception of African American women in this country and to eradicate age-old stereotypes we’ve all seen played over and over in the media — gross mischaracterizations of us as angry black women, sassy, mammies, aggressive, controlling, and emasculating. Such descriptions are dated in their attempt to minimize us and insulting in their inaccuracy. Yet they have persisted and have been exacerbated in recent years. The consistent negative images of African American women in the media — from the slate of reality shows depicting us at our worst to music videos that objectify and debase us to daily news feeds of drugged-out, screaming black women running through the streets in bathrobes — have served to reinforce what we know is not the truth of us. Such imagery has never been the truth of who black women are as mothers, wives, grandmothers, sisters, aunts, or human beings. Mrs. Obama is acutely aware of the importance of portrayals of black women and the need for positive representation. She has said of her March 2009 Vogue magazine cover, While I don’t consider myself a fashionista, I thought it was good for my daughters and little girls just like them, who haven’t seen themselves represented in these magazines, hopefully to talk more broadly about what beauty is, what intelligence is, what counts. Without heavy-handedness, Mrs. Obama is ever conscious of what is important and what is just, particularly as it relates to African American girls’ perceptions and sense of possibility for themselves and their futures.

The First Lady’s embodiment of humanity and excellence invalidates stereotypes that have plagued black women for years. And what is interesting in the larger discussion of what Mrs. Obama’s image means to America is that her persona is actually closer to the reality of black women than not. We are, just as our ancestors were, devoted mothers, principled, spiritual, supportive of our communities, and proud. The stereotypes of black women were never representative of who we are. We have never been what the larger society attempted to force upon us by way of unflattering traits. The dignity, pride, and grace that the world has observed in Michelle Obama since she emerged on the national scene should absolutely be celebrated, emulated, and praised. Yet such admirable traits of the First Lady do not translate into a recasting or redefining of African American women. Rather, their recognition is an acknowledgment of what we have always known to be true about whence we came. Mrs. Obama, in all her grace, is the manifestation of a long history of courageous, intelligent black women upon whose shoulders she stands. She is the embodiment of an enduring struggle of African American women throughout this country’s history — great women who helped shape America, from abolitionists Sojourner Truth and Harriet Tubman to writer Phillis Wheatley; to Spelman College founders Sophia B. Packard and Harriet E. Giles; to entrepreneur and philanthropist Madam C. J. Walker; to activists Ella Baker, Rosa Parks, and Myrlie Evers-Williams; to Vivian Malone; to Coretta Scott King; to Dr. Betty Shabazz; to Marian Robinson; to all the leaders and founders of this country’s black sororities and sisterhoods; to all the black women who deprived themselves daily to ensure opportunities for their children; and to all the fine black women who got dressed in their Sunday best without fail no matter how difficult the week to give praise to all the black Women of Inspiration in this book and across the United States of America and the world. On their shoulders Mrs. Obama stands. On their shoulders we all stand. This is the stock from which we hail. This is our history of survival and triumph.

The dignified, strong black woman whom President Obama has referred to as his rock is the reality. Mrs. Obama may be the world’s most visible African American woman and may thus seem remote from reality, but at her core she represents who we are as black women in this country. The character Mrs. Obama possesses and displays is not an anomaly for African American women. Rather, it represents the best of us, the possibility of us, the beauty of us, the hope of us, the expectation of us, the truth of us.

Laila Ali is a former boxer and the daughter of the famed world champion and entrepreneur Muhammad Ali. She was named Super Middleweight Champion by the International Boxing Association in 2002 and by the International Women’s Boxing Federation in 2005. She has three stepchildren and two children.

grew up in Los Angeles, California, in a neighborhood called Hancock Park, where my parents were married. When I think about my childhood, what stands out most are the summers, when my dad would pile me and my six sisters into his brown Rolls-Royce and take us for a ride on Wilshire Boulevard with the top down. He’d pull over to the side of the road to give homeless people money or to sign autographs. He loved to be noticed. I remember not really understanding why people loved him so much but knowing that he was very special. My mom has always been a very sophisticated, impeccably dressed woman — very gorgeous. In my eyes, she was the most beautiful woman in the world. I remember being so proud because of her beauty and poise. When she’d come to school for parent-teacher conferences or to pick me up, all the heads would turn. My mom’s a great person, not just a beautiful one. She has so much class and treats everyone with kindness. I have always been very proud of that.

I remember thinking that both of my parents were special because of the way they treated people. My father used to say, Never step on others to get ahead, and treat all people the same. Even though my dad is one of the most famous men in the world, he has always thought of himself as being on the same level as everyone else, no matter what their position in life. So I grew up like that. To me, everybody’s the same, even celebrities. When your dad’s Muhammad Ali and such a great man for what he stood up for and for being his own person, a man who has had a lot of what he worked for taken away and survived … nothing tops that in my book. My dad is Muslim, and there was a real emphasis on religion in our family. We were also taught pride, humility, and confidence and to be thankful for everything that we had. A lot of times people who grow up privileged see the people around them not necessarily treating everybody with kindness and respect. But in my family, that wasn’t the case.

As a kid, I always wanted to grow up fast. As a teenager, I couldn’t wait to be independent. I wanted to start working. I wanted to move out of the house. Being Muhammad Ali’s daughter was a challenge because I didn’t always know who my real friends were, and there were always different people around me. I struggled to find my own identity. Sometimes I felt teachers gave me a harder time because they wanted to make it a point not to give me an easier time. I never wanted special treatment, so I tried to keep who my father was from people as long as I could. When I enrolled in school, I used my mom’s last name, which was Anderson at